Chapter 1 #2
“Wait…you talk to Alex? Since when?” I don’t mean to raise my voice, but I’m surprised.
Alex is my sort of partner at work. She’s currently on the East Coast wrapping up a contract job for a couple rich execs who split their time flying between Miami and New York.
But more often than not we team up for jobs.
Everyone at our company has a specific skill set, and both of us are pilots—which we use to gain access to people and places we wouldn’t otherwise have.
Our cover as corporate pilots has never been questioned and that makes investigating rich jerks a whole lot easier.
“Since like three years ago. We text all the time. And I know you genuinely like her.”
A weird sense of jealousy sweeps through me as I tune out another ATC conversation over my headset.
Cara is my sister. Not Alex’s friend. And I hate the idea of my family and work mixing.
I’ve carved out a neat and tidy life and I can almost feel my control slipping away from me, of my building blocks starting to wobble.
I clear my throat, wanting to take the spotlight off myself.
“So, have you finished Christmas shopping yet?”
“Okay, I know what you’re doing, but fine. We’ll table this. And yes, thankfully,” she says on a laugh. “Kids are done and so is Ethan. And I heard from Edna that she and her family are enjoying the cruise.”
My throat tightens slightly with a surge of emotion.
Cara paid for an all-expenses cruise for Edna and family as a send-off and thank-you for so many years of being an important part of their lives.
And even though Cara doesn’t know that I know, she also started a savings account for Edna’s daughter when she was young so she could use it for college or trade school.
Cara is so giving and wants to see the best in people.
Some days I wish I was more like her and could see all the good she swears is there.
I turn down the volume on my radio when yet another pilot starts talking to the nearby ATC. “So what else is going on? Seriously? Before, you sounded off.” And I can never let things go. Probably why I’m so good at my job. Also probably why I don’t have a real life outside of work.
“Something at work.” Her tone is distracted and I’m surprised by how relatively quiet it is in the background.
Normally there’s a TV going, or Riley shouting at the top of her lungs because that’s her normal decibel.
At eight years old, the world is her oyster and I’m so thankful that she and Quinn and Fiona are growing up in a safe, loving household where they can be as loud and silly as they want.
Instead, today I hear an emotional strings version of “Carol of the Bells” filling the background.
“Where are the kids today?” I ask, even as I’m wondering about Cara’s job. It’s Saturday but she works for a huge aeronautical company with demanding hours.
“Fiona’s tutoring someone in math, Quinn’s next door with her bestie, and Riley is with Ethan’s parents for a ‘special granddaughter’s day.’ And Ethan is at the country club. It’s weird having the house to myself.”
“In a few days you won’t be able to hear yourself think.” Winter break will start for the girls on December nineteenth. I will be coming to stay with them for a few days over Christmas if my job allows. It should, since I’m so close to wrapping things up.
“I know, and I’m looking forward to it while simultaneously dreading the chaos.” Her tone is still slightly off.
“Okay, what’s going on? Something is wrong, I can hear it in your voice.”
Silence fills the line for a long moment. “I did something I shouldn’t have,” Cara finally whispers, taking me off guard. She sounds almost afraid and the change in tone is jarring.
I’m now close to ten miles out from my home airport on the outskirts of Seattle, so I turn away from my original path.
It’s clear Cara needs to talk, and I don’t want to get distracted by ATC and landing.
“What did you do?” I can’t ever imagine Cara doing something wrong.
But if she did, I’ll help her cover it up. I’ll do anything for her.
“I found out… Oh god, I can’t even say it.
” She’s still whispering. “And I don’t even know who to talk to.
That’s a lie,” she continues before I can even think of responding.
“I know what I have to do. It’ll ruin so much.
But if I don’t, it’ll be so much worse. I have copies of…
everything. I put it all somewhere safe.
” She almost sounds like she’s talking to herself at this point.
Alarm spikes inside me. She’s not just anxious.
There’s a kind of raw fear lacing her words that I feel right to my bones.
“Talk to me. Tell me what I can do to help. We’ll figure it out together.
” We’re in different fields, but I would do anything for my sister.
“I might have contacts that can help you.”
Even as “Carol of the Bells” starts to hit the crescendo, there’s a soft chime in the background, announcing that one of her doors has been opened. Someone else is home now, and I hope we haven’t lost our window to talk in private.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” There’s surprise in Cara’s voice and it’s clear she’s not talking to me. Then she gasps. “Oh my god! What—”
Pop, pop, pop.
Gunshots. Three in a row, the sound surreal and utterly familiar.
My heart seizes. “Cara!” I shout, my hand gripping the yoke.
She doesn’t answer.
I hear glass breaking and everything in front of me goes hazy. My hand clutches the yoke and I jerk forward. The plane dips downward, the sudden movement breaking me out of my stupor.
I drag in a ragged breath and loosen my grip, letting my plane return to its trimmed position.
The crescendo of the violin fills the background, a macabre symphony.
“Cara?” I whisper, even though I know in my gut that she’s gone. I’m desperate to hear her voice. Frantic for any sign that she’s still alive. She can’t be gone. “Cara?” Tears are tracking down my face as I hear more glass being smashed.
Suddenly the music dies and everything goes so quiet I check my headset and phone. Bluetooth is still connected. “Cara, please answer me!”
I realize I’m holding my breath as I hear footsteps on the tiled floor. A crunching, grating sound of glass being crushed on the tiles, then a little whoosh of air.
I can hear someone breathing, in and out, in and out. Ragged, and unsteady. The short, shallow breaths sound almost manic. My sister? Or her killer?
“Cara?” My voice cracks as I force her name past my numb lips. She can’t be gone. I can’t bear it.
Someone is still breathing on the other end.
“Cara?” I demand now, beyond desperate.
The line goes dead.